


Ugly Stimuli

by bobross



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Sensory Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobross/pseuds/bobross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>John is all for tracing veins and freckles in bed, all for flickering tongue and lover's fingers, but a quickie in the mortuary calls for ugly stimuli.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ugly Stimuli

John is all for tracing veins and freckles in bed, all for flickering tongue and lover's fingers, but a quickie in the mortuary calls for ugly stimuli. 

So: no questions, just hands at Sherlock's belt and button and zip, trousers and pants rucked down without a word. So: spit in his palm, jolly Rosy herself, and she's no slippery tease this time, she's the ranking officer and she's called for **ATTENNN-SHUN!** , goddammit. So: weapon's-grade calluses pressing, ungentle and uncurious, into the dark needle-tracks littering Sherlock's thighs.

The tiles are merciless, his knees' cold complaints a distant counterpoint to the strangled ache pinned to the inside of his zip. John likes a freshly-showered cock well enough, but after three days of running about on no sleep, no food, and little attention for hygiene, Sherlock tastes like salt and funk. All he's missing is desert sand. John plows his nose into the rough thatch of hair and wishes he could inhale the scent, too, but Sherlock's swollen down his throat now and there's no room for air.

Sherlock's whispering something shocked and feathery. _Perfect_ , maybe. John eases off halfway and slurps him noisily, makes a mess of it while jolly Rosy pumps fore and aft, the cheeky girl. John chases her kisses up and down the length, half-gagging for his haste, wet smeared round his mouth, dribbling down his chin and neck. Sherlock leaks like he's ruptured. John thinks he might just be.

Sherlock's scarred thighs shudder and lock up. He's barely keeping his feet. John spreads his palm flat below Sherlock's navel, rumpled shirttails trapped between his fingers, and Sherlock's breath catches on some thick, needy sound. His pelvis strains in gentle pulses. John sucks in his breath rather merrily and it rattles the saliva pooling under his tongue; there is no grit there, no sand, but the sudden greedy buck of Sherlock's hips makes up for it.

There is the incongruous slap of an open hand against flesh. John glances up, startled.

Sherlock is a graceless arch above him, spine bent uncomfortably, one elbow planted on the table—too far in to be tabletop proper, no, he's propped up on the _body_ , good Christ—and his other hand...

He's flung his other hand out to grip the far edge of the table, and missed. Caught some flat, flabby edge of the corpse, instead. Sherlock's cock is crammed to the back of John's throat and Sherlock is hanging onto a dead body for dear life.

John's moan is not unlike that of an animal in distress and Sherlock's cock rears in its sloppy cradle. He is coming in hard, desperate jerks, throat convulsing for breath, knobby knees trapped by his trousers. _Oh. Oh. **Oh.**_

It's very like the sound of a particularly brilliant deduction, but John and jolly Rosy could give a shit about magnificent brains just now. John's legs are shivery with painful cramps. Or it's his cock that's cramped, swollen, straining; the legs are just sympathetic. He suddenly misses his sidearm. He coughs quietly. Says nothing.

Sherlock is breathless and messy and gently wilting—probably left nail-gouges in the dead man's shoulder, _Christ on the cross_ —and he looks down at John like a gunner sighting up.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kinkmeme [prompt](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/14370.html?thread=78779426#t78779426):
> 
>  
> 
> _Inspired by this gif: http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lv8tzllkro1qe8bp4o1_500.gif_
> 
>  
> 
> _(Doesn't it look like he's saying 'perfect' there?)_
> 
>  
> 
> _Sherlock makes some fabulous, wonderful deduction at the morgue about the latest murder victim. He gets all excited and animated and yes finally an interesting case! that John can't help himself, he asks Molly to leave for a few minutes to... discuss some things with Sherlock._
> 
>  
> 
> _And by 'discuss' he means give Sherlock the filthiest blowjob imaginable. Probably up against the table, with Sherlock's trousers around his thighs and his knuckles going white against the cold steel._


End file.
